I Quit
by Current.Obsession
Summary: France stood up at the conference table, trying to get everyone's attention. "Ah-everyone, I quit being a nation." Aging is hard. Rated M for adult themes; yaoi- FrUk.
1. Time

France stood up at the conference table, trying to get everyone's attention. "Ah-everyone, I quit being a nation."

England's head snapped in the Frenchman's direction, confused, as everyone quieted. "What? You can't just quit being a nation."

"Actually I did, yesterday," France, Francis, gave him a weak smile.

"Mi amigo!" Spain stood up, his mouth hanging open slightly. "You can't! Go get your job back! That's not fair, Francia!" Francis shook his head at the Spaniard.

England's eyebrows furrowed, thinking. "Then... Who's taking your place..?"

"I don't know, maybe my female counterpart," Francis sighed, "And since I've lost my immortality, I'm 53 years old now..."

He stared up at him, looking at his features carefully from where he sat. Francis's eyes had small wrinkles at the ends, and his hair was graying just a bit, and he had begun to get laugh lines. "…Why, though...?"

"I have work to do, something I cannot do as a nation,"

"But..." England thought, pausing. "What work could possibly make you give up being a nation?" He frowned very slightly, knowing that he'll miss the frog, though he'd never admit it.

"You'd laugh if I told you," he chuckled lightly and walked closer. He placed a card on the table in front of England and said his farewells, Italy coming over to say goodbye to his big brother and Spain pouting and giving the Frenchman a hug. England was only barely aware of this as he read the card, which had an address and phone number, with "Francis Bonnefoy" written in the top corner. England frowned down at the card as he read it, and looked back up at Francis, wondering what to say.

Francis looked at England after a moment, "see me in two months, at that address," he sighed and held out a hand. "Friends?"

The Brit's eyebrows were still knitted together and he cocked his head to the side slightly before looking at his hand carefully, taking it cautiously. "...Only because you're not France anymore, frog..." he muttered quietly, thinking that that wasn't a very good insult or excuse for slightly shaking his hand.

Francis held onto his hand a moment longer before letting go, and he smiled sadly. "It was nice knowing you; adieu, for now,"

England stared up at him for a moment, his hand slowly dropping into his lap, silent, wishing he hadn't resigned, but before Francis shut the door, he called back in a saddened tone, "I'm sorry if you don't find me in two months, I'll try to live it out,"

England bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything stupid to him, wondering what he could possibly mean by that, and he turned back to the table when the door shut behind him, glaring the card down.

The World Meeting was cancelled that day.

* * *

The blonde Brit held the card France- er, Francis had given him the day he left, and was hurrying to the address carefully, wondering what he wanted, and soon arrived, knocking on the door cautiously, and his eyes darted to where Francis had appeared when the door swung open. He looked older, somehow. His home smelled of cheese and other pleasant French smells. "Come in," he smiled softly and opened the door for England, and he came into the house, curious, looking around as he played with the cuff of his shirt.

Francis gestured to a seat, "I should mention, what feels like two months to you, is... two years for a human,"

"You're... fifty-five..?" he asked quietly, moving to take a seat politely.

Francis nodded. "Aging is hard; I wonder how the humans did this..."

The Brit sighed softly, almost inaudibly, looking down at the floor. "I heard that... humans get hurt easier..? You're, alright.. arent you?" he asked softly, not liking what being mortal was doing to Francis..

Francis shrugged, "Joint pains and all the usual things," he rubbed his shoulder.

He swallowed, glancing up at Francis, missing him so much and wishing he could rewind time to tell him not to quit. "O-oh..."

"How's the new France treating you?"

England shrugged, glancing back down. "She's... alright.." he murmured, not really having paid much attention to her.

"That's good," he murmured and clicked on a stereo system. "Want something to eat?"

He shook his head. "You don't have to get me anything, Francis.." he mumbled, not caring for food now anyway.

Francis nodded and paused, listening to the music that was playing. It was a song in French, " Si vous n'existez pas, pourquoi devrais-je?" he looked down, translating, "If you don't exist, why should I...?"

England made a small sound, like a broken sigh and a melancholy moan mixed together. "Francis.."

" Rester amoureux, remain lovers, dans la douleur de chacun, in each other's pain..." he choked on his words and looked up at England.

He was about to say something, but he just got up and moved to stand in front of him. "Why? Why did you have to quit?" he whined quietly.

France touched England's cheek gently with his aged hands, "I had something I needed to do,"

England glared up at him for a moment before looking to the side and gritting his teeth. "It's not fair.." his voice cracked slightly.

"Je sais, cher. I know,"

England huffed softly but didn't look up. "You still haven't told me what made you quit..." he mumbled, wanting to know if he could blame someone for this mess.

Francis stared off for a moment. "…For science," he mumbled.

England glanced up at him. "For science?" he repeated, not sure what he meant.

France hummed to the tune of the song, "Oui, science. Time,"

"Wh-why?" His eyes narrowed slightly, not understanding still.

France looked into England's eyes. "I'll be dead in two years," he took a shaky breath. "I've made a great deal of inventions in the past two years, well worth it."

England's throat felt constricted then, and he shook his head fiercely. "Wh.. What? N-no! Francis...! Wh-why?" he wrapped his arms around the Frenchman's waist tightly, a little childishly and buried his face into Francis' chest.

Francis held England close and stroked his back gently. "Shh, it's a little terminal problem is all,"

"What..?" he mumbled, his eyes stinging.

Francis leaned down and kissed his cheek gently, his hair slightly scrabble against Arthur's clean face, and the Brit turned his face toward Francis', not caring about the age difference that was there now, giving him a soft kiss on his lips. He felt Francis stiffen just a little in his arms, and kissed the him for a moment before pulling away a little reluctantly. "Francis..." he looked up at him, his face still so close to his own. "You cant fix it, can you...?" his emerald eyes were filled with sadness.

Francis kissed his nose gently "That's why I asked you to come over…"

His brow furrowed. "Wh-what?"

Francis held his shoulders firmly. "I need your help."

"W-with what?" He asked, wanting to help but honestly, a little hesitant.

Francis paused for a moment, "with an invention."

He cocked his head to the side softly, nodding slightly. "How can I help?"

Francis grabbed his hand and led him into the basement, before he turned the lights on; he planted a quick kiss on England's lips.

He followed him curiously, holding his hand tightly.

France smiled and leaned down to kiss him again before leading England into a large, white room, with a single box on a table. England watched quietly as the Frenchman walked over and lifted the box, he sighed and turned back to England. He watched carefully, his thick eyebrows pushed together as he waited.

"This is a time machine," Francis said slowly, showing the small dials and buttons to England.

He nodded slightly, wondering, but not doubting, if it was real. "And what do I need to do..?"

"I want you to go and try it out."

"Why...? What happens If I do?" He asked quietly, staring up at him.

"I set it a minute into the future, so it'll be instantaneous for you. Click this button," Francis smiled slightly and pointed to a small button.

He paused a moment, staring up at him before pressing the button hesitantly, but Francis was too late to stop him. "Wait! I haven't set-" Francis yelled out before everything went dark for England.

* * *

England knew he had made a mistake, and found himself in what seemed to be the corpse of the house. Everything was dusty and aged. He stared around, thinking that the time machine had to be near him if he went through time like that... Maybe he could figure out when he was and go back...

"You're sure you heard it in here?!" a loud voice called from the top of the stairs. England hid himself behind a table and the door swung open and the sound of hovering sounded followed up with soft voices. England carefully peeked from his hiding place, trying to see who was there, and hesitated when he saw America and Japan standing there, but wearing simple t-shirts and leather pants. He wondered quietly why they were dressed so oddly.

The Japan-look alike turned to look over at England's hiding place. "Alex... I think someone is here..." the other one walked closer. England swallowed and he hid himself in his hiding spot better, quietly, but trembled slightly, debating for a moment and he carefully, cautiously moved, peeking out to look at them. They looked exactly like America and Japan, besides the strange clothing. They both had riding goggles on their heads and large shoes, as well as purple gloves. "Hello," Alex smiled, when he saw movement, his blue eyes darting to meet England's, and the Brit hid again, and Alex sighed. "Come out, we won't hurt you."

England thought for a moment. _They would think I was crazy if I asked when it was... What's a good excuse...? _"'Ello..." He mumbled hesitantly, his eyes narrowed slightly, looking confused, after poking his head out to look at them again.

They smiled at him. "Hey, do you know where you are?" Japan held out a hand.

He got up carefully and stared at his hand carefully before taking it a short moment later. "No.." _I was... Kidnapped, there's my excuse... I was knocked out..._

Alex laughed. "Hey, he looks like Arthur."

_Or better yet... Amnesia!_ "Arthur.. I am Arthur..." He mumbled, staring at them, his head cocked to the side slightly, acting even more confused now.

"It is him!" Kikkux smiled and chuckles. "Hey, Arthur, nice seeing you again,"

"..Er, you too... Wait... Where's Francis?" He asked, looking around. Maybe they knew.

"Francis? France? He died a way long time ago, about a month after you visited him," Alex shrugged. "I'm Alfred, America... But my name changed," he adds quickly.

"...Francis..." He breathed, looking down. "Wh-where are we? I can't remember anything..."

"2032," Alex said and lead Arthur out of the basement. The upstairs was just as it was before, maybe more high-tech and whiter.

Arthur's eyebrows pushed together. "B-but where?"

"Francis's house; he gave it to us in his will," Alex touched a wall gently

He swallowed, looking down. "Wh... Where is all his stuff?" He asked quietly, wrapping his arms around himself.

"In the basement, I think," Kikkux said from behind him.

He paused, looking back down at the basement. "Everything? Even what was already in the basement?"

"I think so," Alex smiled. "He left a note for you,"

"Wh-where?" He looked back up at America, biting his lip nervously.

"Uh..." he quickly ran to a room and came back, holding up a note. "Here."

England bit his lip and took the note from him, sighing softly before he read it– "Arthur, I know I didn't have long after you left, so I left you a riddle. But you need to find it."

Alex read over Arthur's shoulder "Huh..."

"What..." He sighed. "Where is all his stuff? Take me there." He demanded, looking up at America and Japan.

Kikkux frowned "Okay, but don't come out until we call you up," he opened the door and gestured Arthur in before pulling on some sort of ring and running away.

England swallowed, leaning against a wall. "Francis..." He stared the note down sadly, wondering why he just had to press the button, but paused when Japan and America ran out of the door after some yelling. Alex pulled something off the ground and looked back at Arthur. He ran back and pushed England into the basement before running out. "E-eh, what!?" England stumbled, gripping Francis' note, turning to glare at the door before he sighed and went town to the basement, knowing something was up, though he did the idiotic thing and didn't question it.

The basement rattled as some booming sound came from outside. England glared up at the door as he continued cautiously down to the basement, peeking into there hesitantly. The objects were carefully organized in stacked boxes. He glanced around before hurrying and moving to the boxes, ripping them open and looking through them. Most boxes were filled with clothing and other household items. Some with strange knick knacks and one filled to the rim with books. He continued to look in the boxes, examining Francis' things carefully, even his clothes, which hurt a little to touch them, knowing he hadn't worn any of them in a long time.

At the very bottom of the box was a small letter. It was written in French but the world "Arthur" and "Anglaterre" was written multiple times all over it

England swallowed and opened the letter quietly. It was written in French only, with words like, "je t'aime, Mais tu aimes moi?" England stared at the letters, his head cocked to the side, recognizing only a few of the words, due to Francis speaking to him in his native language. "What type of clue could this be?" He sighed, confused.

The booming sound stopped abruptly and the rattling paused.

England glanced back up at the door he came from and around the room, curious, though he looked back down, pocketing the note and looking through other things. The rest of the boxes had his homely things; tooth paste, brushes, even a ribbon or two for when he tied his hair back. He grabbed a ribbon and tied it around his wrist as he turned, looking around for other things. There was nothing but old radios and a single voice recorder with "Anglaterre" on it. His eyebrows pushed together and he played the tape. It played the same song England heard before he left, "et si tu n'éxistait pas, dit-moi pourqoui existait...?"

He sighed. _This is no help if I can't understand French..._ He waited until the tape stopped before looking at other things. The other things were books and papers. Several in English, but most in French or Spanish. The books were mostly classics, like Shakespeare and Mark Twain. He glanced through the papers he could read and frowned, glancing up at were America and Japan were. He paused, looking back around for the door to the white room Francis took him to. Once he spotted it, he smiled a little, and went to it, pulling the door open and stepping inside.

The white room had turned a more beige color, but still smelled of invention. In the middle, where the time machine once stood, was a metallic looking ring. England moved to pick up the ring, curious and held it between his fingers gently and pursed his lips and slipped the ring onto a finger, curious. Everything felt strange. Like he was heavy, but he was light. His eyebrows drew together and he glanced around, looking for something else.

There was nothing else but a short letter. It was in English, and it was a letter of departure.

"To: The United Nations

From: the French Republic

I have resigned as a nation; on behalf of personal reasons. I have grown weary of life, unable to wake myself up in the morning. I want to pass on; I have lived for so long. I don't know if other nations feel this, this hollowness. I can't stand it, so I ask to resign."

England grimaced as he read the letter, folding it up and shoving it into the pocket with the other little notes he found and sighed, turning to find America and Japan.

They were waiting at the top of the stairs; Alex was holding out the machine. "Hold it and click the black button."

England's green eyes darted to the machine and he ran up to them, taking the machine gently, careful. "And that will do what?" he asked, trying to make sure something _else_ as bad as this didn't happen.

Japan smiled. "You'll go right back to the minute you left."

"Are you sure?" he asked a little hesitantly, though Japan's words comforted him a bit.

"Positive. Just remember... France dies a year later, from when you arrive, make it count."

He paused a moment, thinking. "..Do you know how it works?"

Japan sighed; the people of the future were rather impatient. He shoved it into England's arms and clicked the black button. England found himself in the dark, before heended up in front of Francis who was sitting on a chair, half asleep. England arrived perhaps a few minutes after he had left. England sighed softly as he appeared back in Francis' home, his plan shattered. But he looked over and saw Francis, his eyebrows pushing together as he looked at the Frenchman, thinking about how much he had missed him in the alleged long time he had been gone, which had only been a little while in this time and thought how adorable he looked, even if he was older. He carefully moved over to him, crouching down beside him and leaning his head against the arm of the chair gently, staring up at him.

Francis woke up at the movement and looked over at England. "Had fun, chér?" he cooed and touched England's head.

He shook his head, forlornly. "Not at all..." He leaned into his touch slightly.

Francis smiled and kissed England's nose softly. He smiled, his aged appearance causing him to look wiser if anything. After a moment he stood up, painfully and with choppy movements.

England stood up after him, worried. "Francis..."

"Oui?" he answered, smiling and rubbing his neck.

He carefully moved, sniffing as he came closer and wrapped his arms around Francis gently from behind. "You're hurting... You're going to die soon... I'll miss you... If you have a time machine, then why don't you just go back and not resign? I'd gladly spend the rest of eternity with you..." He blinked away tears. "I don't want to loose you, Francis... I love you.. So much.." He sniffed again.

"It's not as easy as it seems, I can only go as far back as when the machine was first functional." He turned in England's hold on him and kissed his head. "…But I do believe you found out why I resigned. I just can't take it any longer; it was killing me in its own right... I wanted to be human..." he rubbed England's back gently and sighed. "What was it? A year left?"

He swallowed and nodded hesitantly, not looking up at him for fear that he might start crying.

"Well, I bet you have a lot of work to do right now, why not get to it? Come back in a month?" Francis smiled, knowing full well he wouldn't be there in a month.

"Francis!" The Briton looked up at him, tears welling up and almost spilling over as he shook his head. "No! N-not when... N-no..." His chin trembled slightly.

Francis continued his pained smile, looking in even more pain than before. He gently wiped the tears that had spilled, hushing him. "Unless you want to stay with me here..."

"O-of course..." He stared up him, huffing softly, trying to hold back more tears. "Y-you should s-sit down..."

Francis shook his head and held England's hand gently, "Then… Will you marry me, Arthur Kirkland?"

England nodded quickly, still looking up at him, though he smiled. "O-of course! Y-yes…"

Francis smiled and kissed England before turning and grabbing a small box on a table. He opened it up, and inside it was a simple golden ring. Francis frowned a little at it. "I'm sorry… This was the best I could afford..."

England shook his head again, swallowing. "I-It's perfect... Even if it was just a k-key ring, it'd be the best ring e-ever.." he murmured between the quiet sobs which had began to appear along with the tears running down his cheeks.

Francis smiled and kissed England gently before placing the ring on his third finger. His large hands had grown stiff, and had trouble moving but he smiled anyway. He looked at England and wiped at the tears before kissing him again. "I'm sorry, it must be painful when I kiss you," he mumbled. His lips had long since grown chapped and brittle.

Arthur shook his head yet again. "A-all that matters i-is that its y-you kissing me..." He sighed shakily, gripping Francis' shirt.

Francis frowned and kissed him again. "Don't cry chér, I don't like it..."

Arthur sniffed, trying to stop crying. "I-I don't want you t-to leave me, though... Y-you'll be g-gone, and I'll n-never see you again..." he mumbled, looking up at him.

Francis shook his head and kissed his lips gently. "At least enjoy your time left with me," he smiled painfully and closed his eyes, touching his forehead and wincing. "Oh Dieu... I feel dizzy..."

England's eyebrows pushed together and he grabbed Francis' hand gently, pulling him to the couch carefully. "Y-you need to sit, F-Francis..." His chin still trembled as he wiped his tears away with one hand.

Francis nodded weakly and places his wrist against his forehead. After a few minutes it seemed to clear up and he looked over at England, who was sitting next to him, curled up near his side and staring at him worriedly, his eyes red from his tears, though they had stopped falling. He gripped England's ringed hand and kissed it gently.

"I should have t-told you that I l-love you so long a-ago..." England frowned.

"You always looked like you hated me, and didn't want anything to do with me," Francis replied quietly, stroking England's hair.

"B-because I didn't know wh-what to do.. I've loved y-you for a very long time... And e-each war between us tore my h-heart more and more..." He swallowed, nuzzling at Francis' neck gently.

"Shh, it's okay... I've forgiven you each time, have I not?" he kissed England's head and held him close. "You know," he whispered, "I'm very sick right now and I... I would like if you stayed with me for my final days... And helped me..."

He nodded softly and bit his lip. "I'm n-not leaving you either w-way..." England's hand shook slightly as he set it on Francis' cheek gently, tears welling up again as he thought of his 'final' days. "I love you... I-I always will..."

Francis gripped the hand gently and felt himself start to choke up. "I love you too, mon Angleterre," he kissed him very softly and chuckled. "How about I make you something to eat? We can't stay seated in the basement forever."

England frowned, he thought of offering to cook for him, not wanting him to go to all the trouble, but knew that he himself sucked at cooking. "W-we don't have to leave..."

Francis shook his head, "It's cold in here," he stood up and held out a hand for England to do the same. "Come on, I'll cook something simple if you're not hungry." England frowned and took his hand, but got up himself so that he wouldn't have Francis trying to pull him up, nodding. Francis continued to smile at him, and England couldn't help smiling back. He was just happy to be with him. So happy to be loved.

**I had a dream, okay? I'm sorry. Don't cull me or anything (Points for you if you got that reference). I love Francis to death, and I just… CANT EVEN. Not anymore. :T welp, review, please?**


	2. Rain

They were seated at the table after a while; Francis had headed up some soup from the previous day. He sighed, "I'm sorry, I can't find myself cooking right now, u-unless you want something else!"

"N-no, Francis! I-it's okay, I'm not hungry..." he frowned, wanting him to just relax and be happy.

Francis looked him over and sighed softly, "I'm sorry if it doesn't taste good..."

"No, Francis... Y-your cooking is always d-delicious..." he leaned over and nuzzled at his shoulder.

Francis smiled and kissed his head again. "Don't you want to be with other nations?"

"I just want t-to be with you... Francis and Arthur... and that's all I want. You a-and me together..." he looked up at him sadly. Francis nodded and brushed away his hair, and they ate.

That night, Francis asked England to sleep in his bed; he gave him some night clothes and sat on the bed. He patted his side, pleading for Arthur to sit down next to him, and he didn't even hesitate, and climbed in carefully, cuddling close to him and giving him a gentle kiss on his lips. Francis smiled and held him close. He fell asleep quickly, silent, Arthur in his arms. Arthur couldn't help but think of how cute he was when he slept, even considering how old he looked, and wanted to fall asleep too, but he was a little nervous of what he'd find in the morning. So he stayed awake for a little while, thinking, before finally falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Francis was up and cooking breakfast for England, who woke up not too soon after Francis and got up, searching for him, looking in the kitchen, still tired and his voice a little raspy. "...Francis, why are you cooking for me?" He pouted, rubbing at his eyes as he walked closer to him.

Francis turned and pulled Arthur to him, kissing his lips with passion. "Bon matin, mon amour," he grinned and placed the breakfast, pancakes, on the table.

England sighed softly and ignored the food, hugging Francis and burying his face into his chest tiredly. "You shouldn't be cooking..." He yawned.

"But I love to cook, mon ange..." he rubbed Arthur's back soothingly. "Come on, don't let my food go to waste," he urged.

He smiled softly. "I won't... I just don't want you to hurt yourself doing it..." He looked up at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the table, and Francis followed suit.

* * *

Another month or two passed and soon if became harder and harder for Francis to even stand up when getting out of bed. On one morning, as it inevitably rained outside, Francis refused to get out of bed. England was becoming more and more worried about him and that morning, he frowned after a few attempts to get him out of bed. "Do you want breakfast...?" His eyebrows were then pushed together.

Francis looked out the window. "No, I'm not hungry anymore." He sighed painfully and shifted "Please sit with me... Just a little longer..." England's heart ripped a little more now, seeing him like this. He cuddled closer to him and pecked his lips gently, still not caring about how old Francis was getting.

Francis looked over at him. "...Can you make me a promise?" Arthur nodded, his eyebrows still pushed together in worry, and Francis continued. "Some people believe that, when they die, they are reborn. Though, not into another person, but into yourself. That you just live your life over and over again... That each time you live, that you still love me the way you do... I guess I'm just asking, love me forever... Please?" he looked at England, smiling slightly.

England nodded softly. "That was already promised, in my mind, love..." He smiled back at him, kissing his lips again gently.

"Thank you, chére..." his breathing faltered and he closed his eyes. "It's getting dark...".

"Francis... Open your eyes, love, please..." His heart raced and he gripped his hand, scared.

Francis opened his eyes half way and held England's hand limply. "Arthur... I think... I think my time is up..."

England felt his throat tighten and tears sprung into his eyes. "N-no, Francis... Please," was all he could manage, and he moved one hand to cup his face gently, his thumb caressing his cheek gently.

Francis closed his eyes again, the rain outside steadily growing heavier. "I'm sorry, chére... The light hurts..."

"Francis... F-Francis... N-no..." He choked, tears leaking down his face now as Francis let out his final breath.

"Adieu..."

**Much shorter chapter, sorry. Please leave me love; review~**


	3. Aftermath

Arthur sat there for a long time, crying into Francis' lifeless body. He eventually had run out of tears to cry and just curled up into a ball next to him, falling asleep quietly. He didn't even notice that Prussia had come by, and, when he found Arthur and Francis… He flipped out and called the police, and was simply waiting for them to come in the living room. Eventually, they came, and Prussia explained the situation further before a group of men went to Francis' room.

"Sir," a gentle hand rested on Arthur's back as he shook him awake gently. "I'm sorry for your loss, but we are here to pick up the body." a man said, he hardly looked thirty and was looking genuinely sad for him.

Arthur looked up at him tiredly, his eyes red. He nodded softly and swallowed, looking at Francis. "…I love you..." he choked out, kissing his cheek before reluctantly pulling away, so slowly.

The man waited patiently and led Arthur out of the room as others in the room moved in on Francis as soon as he was out of the way. There, in the living room, Prussia stood, he smiled as best as he could at Arthur, what with the loss of one of his best friends, and offered to drive Arthur home kindly.

Arthur stared down as Prussia offered him the ride and shook his head. "I live in England, you know that..." he sighed, wanting to stay here forever.

"I can handle that," he said calmly and patted his shoulder. "Come on,"

Arthur played with the ring on his finger and looked around, spotting Francis's keys on the table and nodded to the man, grabbing the keys, and Prussia cocked a white eyebrow at him.

"Why are you taking his keys...?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not letting his house get sold…" Arthur grumbled, though his voice cracked and shook as he spoke. The albino nodded and looked away, before leading him to the car.

* * *

A week or so passed and Francis's funeral was held. Arthur was there, nearly silent the entire time. More nations came than Arthur expected, being as most didn't like him because of his romantic attempts on everyone, though most were almost as quiet as Arthur.

* * *

On Arthur's door, however, was a rose. It was taped on with a note behind it. When Arthur saw the rose, he cocked an eyebrow at it and pulled it off the door, looking at the note. The note was pretty old, at least a year old. "I love you -France". Those were the only words written on the small paper. He swallowed, looking around, wondering who would tease him like that, though he carefully took the note off of the rose and sniffed the rose slightly. The rose smelled lovely, like Francis used to smell, and inside Arthur's house, a trail or rose petals lead to his room. His eyes narrowed, his mind full of Francis' face as he followed the trail hesitantly, peeking into his bedroom.

There was a single candle lit and soft music playing, French music. Francis's favorite song at that. The flowers on the bed formed a heart, but the room was vacant England moved to sit on the bed, listening to the music quietly, tears silently falling from his eyes as his heart was thrown into a paper shredder. Underneath the flower heart was a small box, and one final note saying, "We'll always be together." England's heart continued to rip into smaller and smaller pieces as he read the note, carefully picking up the box after setting the rose down. He opened the box cautiously, looking inside.

There was mirror, one from the English medieval times.

England sniffed softly and raised the mirror slightly to look at it. It was rustic looking, and had gems all around its edges. Though, it showed Francis, young again, hugging Arthur from behind. Small engraved words were on the handle. "Mirror of Erised".

The Brit let out a huge sob, throwing the mirror face down on the bed. "Why are you teasing me like this?!" he yelled, throwing his pillow, tears falling more frequently now.

"…Hey dude, you okay?" America's voice called in after some time.

England didn't answer, he just continued to cry, wishing Francis hadn't resigned, wishing the time machine worked how England wanted it to, and wishing that everything would stop making it seem like Francis was still there.

America stepped in and looked around. "You need a pet..."

England glanced up. "Shut up, America..." he mumbled almost incoherently, his eyes still dripping with tears.

He came closer to Arthur. "Can I do something for you...?"

England shook his head softly, trying to stop his sobs.

America sighed and rubbed his back gently. "I'm sorry..."

England stayed there for a moment, before looking up at America and wrapping his arms around him gently, his sobs having calmed down a bit.

America flinched a little at the movement, and frowned, though he carefully wrapped his arms around the shaking Briton, rubbing his back. "Shh..." He tried calming him down. "... England, I have some bad news..."

"Oh god..." He shuddered, still crying a bit. "Wh-what...?"

"We got you a present," he smiled slightly.

England sniffed and looked up at America, wiping at his eyes. "What is it?"

"A dog."

He swallowed softly, continuing to wipe at his eyes. "Why would you do that?

"You need a partner." The American shrugged a little as if it was obvious.

"But why do you care?" He sighed, glancing away.

"Because you're my friend." he said firmly, frowning.

"I didn't think I was still your friend after the Revolution..." he grimaced softly, glancing back at the American.

"That was ages ago," he sighed.

Arthur let his shoulders tense and then drop. "Some people can't let go of things. I didn't know if you let that go." he sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

"I did," America huffed as barking sounded across the hall. England flinched slightly at the bark. It was more like squeaking, actually, though.

"Well I wasn't aware of that, anyway." he rested his head on America's shoulder, still tired.

"…What do you think happens when we die?" America asked after a moment.

"I..." England choked up slightly, stiffening. "I think... your soul leaves... And is put into another body ...if you've lived a good life.. without sins and such..." he swallowed, wondering what happened to Francis sadly...

"I think you spend the rest of eternity with those you love... Because, making someone happy and feel loved is the greatest blessing of all. Isn't it?"

He nodded slightly. "But I don't think... that that's the real goal of life..." he grimaced, closing his eyes but not falling asleep. "..I-I'm not sure..." he sighed. "Though love is what... most people... aim for... Next to power or money..."

America nodded. "Do you want to be human?" he asked quickly.

England opened his eyes, looking up at the other. "What do you mean... by that..?" he asked curiously.

"Use the time machine, go back and... Make love to France..." he shrugged again and his face contorted a little, as if finding the thought disgusting, which was probably the case.

England paused, blushing slightly. "But.. then I'd just relive his.. death..." he grimaced, glancing away.

"Yes... But then you'd have another memory with him. Hell, Arthur. You have a time machine. You got all the time in the world!"

He sat there a moment, thinking. "I don't want to experience his death again, though..." he sighed, pulling away from America slightly.

"Who said you had to? I can make you relive the same day, over and over and I've again. It's easy, and you won't feel a thing," America pleaded

England swallowed, his eyebrows pushing together, though he thought of how much he'd love to do that. "..I..." he bit his tongue and nodded.

America nodded and touched England's wrist. "Close your eyes..."

Arthur did as he was instructed, and he felt America leave, and come back, taking his hand and pressing it to a button, with a mumbled, "Good luck," before England was gone. Everything had dulled and slipped out of focus, when England opened his eyes. After another moments he was to on a couch with "Non, je ne regrette rien" playing on the radio. He looked around, a little frantic, hoping to see Francis, and he got up, biting his lip and then spotted the Frenchman, who, seemingly having his youth back, looked up and smiled. "Oh, when did you get here, England?" he smiled in the flirtatious way of his.

**Review so that I actually continue with inspiration? :3 pleaseee~?**


	4. Passion

**Excuse anyone who doesn't like reading porn (lolthere'speoplelikethatreadingthis?), skip to the next chapter or wait for the next chapter, because this will end with gay country porn. Obviously. :I**

England hurried over to France, almost in a jog, and tackled him in a hug. "Fr-Francis..!" he cried out, so happy to see him again.

France blushed, catching himself on the wall. "What's wrong? Looks like you haven't seen me in a year!" he looked startled by the sudden hug.

England held him as tight as he could, never wanting to let go of him. "..N-nothing... I- I just missed you... s-so much..." he looked up at France with his teary green eyes.

France, looking back into those green eyes, seized the chance and kissed England. Arthur kissed the Frenchman back carefully, though a tear slid down his cheek; simply happy to have him in his arms again.

Francis pulled away slightly but held him close. "What's gotten into you, did you have a bad dream?"

Arthur bit his lip, nodding. "Y-yeah..." He lied, thinking he shouldn't tell France the truth, as he wiped the tear away.

France sighed and rubbed England's back, frowning. "...England... I think …I'll quit being a nation..."

_I made it here _before_ he quit?!_ He thought, his eyes widening a bit. "N-no, Francis! D-don't do that! You'll... You'll die, and I don't w-want to loose you!" He swallowed softly, wanting so badly that he wouldn't quit.

"I don't know... Getting old sounds like an interesting experience..." France shrugged and hugged him tight.

"But you'll die! I-I'll never see you again, Francis, and I love you! I want to spend the rest of forever with you, please, _please_ don't quit!" He swallowed, tears still in his eyes, threatening to spill

France was taken aback. "Wh... What? Um... Okay..." was the only bit of what he said that Arthur could fathom.

England buried his face in France's chest. "Please... I just… want you to s-stay..."

France patted England's head reluctantly, and England's chin trembled a little, but he held onto Francis tightly, his mouth drying up. France ran his hands through England's short locks and leaned down, kissed England gently, and England only kissed him for a moment before pulling away with a sigh.

"D-does it really feel that bad to live for so long for you..?" He asked quietly, his heart in his stomach.

"Je vais mourir... C'est difficile mourir au printemps..." he sang softly.

England's eyebrows knitted together, wondering what he said, but saying nothing. France brushed away his bangs and he glanced away, frowning, trying to make himself say it. "...I-if it hurts you that much... th-then you shouldn't... let me stop you..." His voice cracked.

"I... I didn't know you love me..." he breathed quietly.

He glanced up at him, nodding quickly. "I do.. I have for a long time..." His voice kept cracking.

France kissed him swiftly. "I love you too,"

England swallowed, a smile pulling at his lips as he nuzzled at Francis' neck. "I'm so happy that you do..."

France smiled and kissed him again and England let France's lips mould onto his, holding him tight, though wondering what will happen if Francis doesn't quit as they kissed, and the Brit's kissing began to seem a little hungry as his hands moving up to wrap around his neck.

France parted the kiss for a moment, looking down at him, his blue eyes sparkling. "Well Arthur...? Should we...?"

Arthur nodded, stretching up a bit to give him a small chaste kiss.

France pulled him over into his room. "I like this England..." he kissed him again.

He blushed slightly, not saying anything but following him closely.

France laid him on the bed gently, kissing him, and even letting his tongue slide along England's lip for entrance, and he willingly opened his lips for the other, wrapping his arms around Francis' neck again, pulling him closer.

France ran a hand along his body and England shivered slightly, pleasurably, loving the feeling of Francis' hands on him like that as he continued to kiss him, letting his hands pull at the other's hair gently, feeling something poke his thigh gently.

France pulled off his clothing swiftly after a moment and then England's own, before pulling the covers over them both. England lay beneath him, blushing furiously as he pulled Francis closer again, pushing his hips into England's, feeling a boner of his own already. France sighed happily into the kiss as England let one hand roam the Frenchman's back gently, feeling along his spine and the muscles moving in his back as he moved to straddle England.

England let out a small moan when he felt Francis straddle him, his eyes closed as he waited fir Francis to do something, until, he felt France's hand grip his member a bit abruptly, and he let out another moan into their kiss.

England pulled at France's hair again, gently as France ran a hand along England's hip ever so gently, to make the Brit shiver as he let France's hand jerk him off. England whimpered, wanting France inside him until France paused and let go of England's cock, stretching his hand out toward England. "Suck them," he mumbled to him as he offered a few fingers.

England nodded slightly and took his hand, pulling it toward his mouth and letting his lips close around three fingers and his tongue move around and between them for a few moments as France watched quietly, his other hand moving to England's cock to resume its pumping until he stopped England and pulled his fingers away. He smiled at England and leaned forward to kiss him gently, his fingers finding the Brit's puckered entrance and pushing one finger into him gently.

England's leg twitched and he moaned softly, and Francis used the chance to let his tongue dive into England's mouth again, letting it explore the little nooks and crannies of his mouth and inserted a second finger, making England moan again, and scissoring them inside of him, trying to stretch him a little and adding his other finger a moment later to stretch him out more before he pulled his hand away from England's shaft to reach over in the bedside table, pulling out a condom blindly–which was easy, considering the drawer he reached in had nothing but condoms– and set it on the bed next to them as he continued to finger England and kiss him, and pulling away after a moment to remove his fingers and put the condom on, looking down at England.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, his breathing a little erratic and he smiled when England nodded, opening his eyes to meet France's blue pair.

Francis the moved closer, positioning himself at England's entrance before, ever so carefully, pushing himself inside him, eliciting a soft whimper from the Brit, who winced and closed his eyes. "Fr-Francis..." He breathed, a small smile on his lips though he felt the slightly pleasurable pain.

France pushed himself in and out slowly. "Tell me if I am hurting you..."

Arthur nodded. "Mhm… Francis..." He let out a pleasurable moan.

France held him close, pumping his hand around England's manhood again, in time with his thrusts, slowly, but steadily picking up the pace as England held onto France, tugging at his hair and fisting it as he moaned, a little loudly. France moved to kiss the Briton's neck, letting his teeth graze against the skin there as he craned his body to push in further, feeling England arch his back slightly.

Francis let his teeth continue to roam around England's neck, biting at his neck gently. The English country moaned louder then, and Francis smirked before he pulled out of England, picking him up and moving him to the side of the bed as the smaller man opened his eyes, searching France's for an answer about the movement, biting on his lip. France shushed him quietly with a kiss on the nose and pulled England's legs up to rest on his shoulders as he kneeled in front of him, pushing himself inside of the other again and making him moan at the new position, somehow getting deeper.

England rested his head on the side of the bed as he let his hand find its way to his tadger, moaning as he wanked himself off fast as France thrusted a bit faster than he was before, grunting and panting at the workout. Not too soon after they had switched positions, though, Arthur moaned a bit louder and looked away, coming onto his chest, shuddering a little, as Francis gasped as he nearly reached his own breaking point, holding onto England's thighs carefully, and it was only a few more thrusts before Francis let out a moan, releasing himself.

France panted, scooting away and pulling himself out and pulling England away from the edge, turning to pick up his own shirt from the floor and wipe up England's little mess and England was too tired to protest, turning and nuzzling at France's neck, smiling softly as he tried to calm his breathing.

France sighed and kissed him, England's arms snaking around France gently, kissing his back lovingly. France smiled and turned, having England on top of him, smirking, and the Brit glanced down at France then, blushing.

France looked at him, his arms tight around England's waist. "Yes?"

Arthur shook his head, cuddling up to him. "Nothing... I just love you.."

France kissed his head. "Okay, chér." England blushed more and closed his eyes contently; Francis sung in French for a few minutes before dozing off. "Oui… Je t'aime..."

England eventually fell asleep shortly after France had, a small smile on his face still.

**Okay. There's your M rating. I can't exactly do sex well, much less gay sex, so I'm sorry. Welp, leave reviews for my continuation of this, maybe? I'll give all you wankers cookies.**


	5. Changes

The next morning, France was up and making breakfast for England, humming as he did so, "Non, je ne regrette rien..."

England eventually woke up, rubbing at his eyes tiredly as he got up and shuffled to the kitchen, spotting Francis and coming closer silently and wrapping his arms around the Frenchman from behind.

France smiled and flipped a pancake or two and turned in England's arms, kissing him quickly. "Bon Matin!"

England smiled into the kiss at how happy he sounded. "'Morning.." he murmured quietly as he pulled away.

France laughed. "Now, now, breakfast is ready." He reached behind him and turned off the stove.

England pouted slightly, gripping his waist tighter. "But you left too soon.. I wanted to cuddle..." He blushed softly, glancing away with a smile still on his face.

France sighed and pulled away, setting the pancakes on the plates. "We can do that after eating." The Brit huffed softly and nodded, moving to sit at the table, followed by the bearded man, and once they sat at the kissed his head, rubbing his back.

England began to eat, but paused to scoot his chair closer to Francis' before continuing with a smile on his face.

France ruffled his hair, and paused when he spotted the rings on his finger. "What are those?"

England paused, wondering if he should tell the truth as he slid one ring off of his finger, staring at it. " Your time machine..." He mumbled, biting his lip.

Francis paused. "My what? Oh boy, you're still half asleep..." he laughed and ruffled his hair again.

England's eyebrows pushed together, but he guessed somehow it didn't exist yet. "Y-yeah..."

"What about this?" he pointed to the golden ring quietly.

England hesitated. "A-a friend gave it to me... It wouldn't fit on any other finger..." Was the lame excuse he came up with.

France nodded slowly. "Ah, okay." he smiled and kissed him

Arthur kissed him back softly, setting the ring on the table.

France chuckled, "Now, now..." He pet England head and sighed. "Wouldn't time travel be wonderful?"

England smiled to himself. "Yeah. It would be... though, I wouldn't change a thing right now..."

"Well, that's go..." France pulled back a little with a look. "England...?"

England glanced up at the Frenchman quietly, nodding for him to continue hesitantly.

"Did you always have freckles...?" France touched England's cheek gently.

England's hand went up to touch his cheek gently, his eyebrows furrowing. "...Freckles?"

"Your hair is such a pretty shade of red, too, matches those cute freckles. Though, why didn't I see the freckles earlier?" he sighed and touched England's hand.

Red hair? Freckles? England looked up at Francis worriedly. "A-are you alright?"

"Yes. Are you?" France replied, frowning.

England lifted a hand to his hair. "Y-yeah.. I.. I need to go to the bathroom..." he got up quietly, moving to the bathroom and shutting the door before looking in the mirror.

He looked normal, save for the red hair, Freckles, and the elfish features

England let out a small squeak when he saw the hair and freckles, moving closer to the sink and wetting his hands and rubbing at the freckles and locks of his hair, hoping that they'd just disappear frantically. Much to England's dismay, nothing came out; in fact, it seems that his hair was steadily growing longer.

England whimpered to himself softly, biting his lip, as he watched his reflection worriedly. The man's red hair grew quickly for a moment, reaching below his shoulders before slowing down again. England panicked for a moment, looking around and throwing a few drawers open. Finding some scissors, he cut at his hair at an angle, quickly. But, as though angered, the hair grew back to its previous length, perhaps longer.

"A-ahh..." He bit his lip to stop a cry of fright. What was happening to him? His hair, red and slightly curled, reached the middle of his thighs. It stopped growing then, only to reveal elf-like ears on England's head. France had grown worried by now, and knocked on the door.

"Chér? You okay?" the muffled, accented voice piped in.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine..." He squeaked, moving his hands to feel and look at his elfish ears. They were soft and pale, and indeed made England's hearing more acute.

"Are you sure? Can I come in?"

"N-no, please don't!" He glanced at the door worriedly, not wanting Francis to see him like this.

"If something's wrong then let me come in..." France patted the door.

"No, please don't.." Arthur whined softly. "You c-cant!"

"Why not?" France stuttered, really worried now

"Please, don't! Just, trust me!" he whined, running a hand through the long hair worriedly.

When England heard the click of the door opening, he hurried and jumped into the shower, grabbing the curtain and holding it in front of him. "Fr-Francis..."

France walked over to the shower. "Why are you hiding...?"

"No, don't look at me...!" England bit his lip, not wanting France to see him like this, but oh so unsure as to why he was like this.

"Why...?" France pleaded, touching the curtain.

The Brit held the curtain tightly shut. "I.. I don't know, I'm hideous..." He frowned, not knowing what to say.

"No, you're not!" France huffed.

"You don't know if I'm not!" He yelped, his eyebrows pushing together.

"Chér, you are beautiful..." France smiled and touched England's hand through the curtain.

England pulled his face away, grimacing. "Maybe ten minutes ago..."

France sighed and grabbed the curtain and pulled it open, blinking in surprise and he touched England's hair, just before he pulled away, a small whimper escaping his mouth and France kissed his nose. "You look lovely."

"Not when I look like an elf... I-I look so.. Girly... A-and I don't know why!" He looked away, frazzled still.

France sighed and gently took Arthur's hair, tying it into a braid. "You were red haired ever since I found you on the couch."

He sighed softly. "B-but... I-I don't know when I got freckles! O-or even my ears... A-and how does hair grow this fast?" he swallowed, still so confused and worried.

France sighed and kissed him again. "I have an idea..."

He looked up at him carefully, wondering what he came up with.

France bit his lip. "You came here in a time machine..."

England glanced away, nodding softly, but wondering how that had to do with his appearance. "Y-yes.."

"The one I made? Ah, I knew this would happen..."

England felt his stomach churn, and he swallowed, nodding again, silent.

France looked at him, "you need to go back home,"

"Fr-Francis, n-no... please don't m-make me go!" He turned, wrapping his arms around Francis, tightly.

France hugged him tightly back. "Non. Don't worry! You aren't going anywhere!" he hushed him and kissed his head.

England swallowed. "I-I don't want to go back, I don't want to have to go on if you're not there!" He kept rambling about wanting to stay, nowhere near to letting go of France.

France pulled him close and kissed his lips. "But... Chér, I think that time machine took away your being as a nation..."

"But.. I don't want to go back! Not when you're d-dead!" He cried, shaking his head. "I-it hurts too much, Francis!"

"You aren't going back," France said calmly, and honestly too.

He glanced up at Francis, tears in his eyes, though his cheeks were dry. "Don't make me go, please..." He pled, wanting a promise.

"_I promise_ you aren't going back," France sat him down on the side of the tub. "Now, quiet down so I can tell you something."

England swallowed and looked up at him, feeling ridiculous with his hair still and wondering what Francis wanted to say, France running his fingers gently through England's hair, "England, you need to disappear for a little while; the you of this time will get scared if he sees you. And since you're a time paradox, you changed appearance."

"B-but... Where am I...?" He frowned, wondering. "Will this me... Cease to exist if you don't.. Quit?"

"Yes..." France nodded slowly

England paused, dreading the question. "A-are you going to quit...?" He swallowed, looking away and biting his lip. "I-I don't want you to feel so.. Empty..."

France didn't reply for a moment, instead, he combed his fingers through the red hair. "Yes..."

England's eyebrows pushed together, casting a shy, worried glance up at him. "A-are you sure? Will you be... Okay? I don't want you to feel like you did..."

"I won't..." France smiled and touched England's cheek

He bit his lip and sniffled. "Do you feel alright...?"

France sighed, "God, you've been crying a lot," he rubbed England's back gently.

"...Sorry, but..." England leaned into him gently, hugging him close. "Are you alright, Francis?" He repeated, wanting a real answer.

France stated at the floor, frowning and gently rubbing England's arms.

"Francis..." England carefully moved his hand to tilt the other's face toward himself. "Please answer me, love..."

France sighed and kissed him quickly. "Well, chér... I was just thinking... Maybe I should destroy that machine."

"Destroy it?" He asked quietly, biting his lip, knowing that this wasn't the answer to his question.

France rested his head on Arthur's own and hummed for a minute or two. "Come on, let's go.." he stood up.

"Francis, wait... You still didn't answer me..." He didn't move yet, and his eyebrows knitted together.

France looked at him sternly. "Now, come along..."

"Please, Francis..." He whimpered, wanting an answer as he crossed his legs. "Tell me, please..."

"I can't, chér..."

"You can't...?" He sighed softly, staring up at him carefully.

France sighed and kissed his forehead. "Non, ce n'est rien," he regarded England carefully. "Let me show you something."

England got up hesitantly, biting his lip again as he nodded softly.

France lead him back into the basement, holding his hand gently, showing a half finished time machine.

England swallowed softly when he saw the machine. "Why... Why did you build it anyway...?" He wondered out loud, quietly.

France laughed. "Oh don't worry, I didn't. You did."

**Well, there you go. I hope I didn't break any hearts this chapter... Sorry for my awkwardness, too. I saw something with elfish Iggy and the idea was just like, BAM. And really, thank you all for such wonderful reviews, I love you guise.**


	6. Fading

"What." England's eyebrows pushed together, and he cocked his head, confused. "I... I did..?"

"I suppose in your timeline, I quit before this point in time. And in my timeline, you came to visit me awhile ago, and helped me build it. You redirected my construction. Saying something about a blue box." He shrugged.

"Doctor Who, you mean?" he looked up at the Frenchman blankly.

Francis nodded. "That, and you tore the whole thing apart and began rebuilding it from scratch. But… you left before you could finish. It's been about a month since then.

"The rings on your fingers– place them on the machine," France changed the subject quickly, pushing him forward gently.

England did as he was told hesitantly, not quite sure what was going on, and France sighed. "Did you really think I got you a gold wedding ring just to propose?" he hugged the Brit from behind. "Of course if get a diamond ring for you. But I knew you would grab that metallic ring I would have on my shelf. It's all I needed to finish the project. That's what your blueprints you left here told me." He pointed to some papers on the far end of the table. "You drew them when you came here.

"Though, you are a time paradox, which means you ought to get out and live somewhere, preferably a cat's stand..."

"Get out..." He looked up at him carefully. "A cat's stand...?" He questioned a little numbly.

France pursed his lips and pulled away just enough to play with England's braid. "What does a cat do for most of the day? It leisurely sleeps. You can either go to your true home or go into a coma," France looked sad at the final comment but shook it off. The Brit shuddered softly, his mouth hanging open slightly, not wanting to do either of those.

"Iggy, what were your people originally?"

Arthur was silent for a moment, a bit dumbfounded, pushing some hair from his face.

"Well? You were a Celtic people."

He nodded, knowing that, but still not understanding what he was trying to get at.

"That is your appearance."

"O-oh..." he thought about it for a moment, glancing up at him, curious as to why, though he didn't ask.

France smiled "England?"

"H-hm?" he hugged himself, not wanting to leave... Or go into a coma.

France smiled weakly and sighed. England bit his lip and sighed softly, his lips set in a pout. "Would you like to dream of me? Or go home?" he repeated, touching England's hand gently.

England stayed there for a moment, silent as he squeezed his eyes shut. Either way he wouldn't be with Francis… "I... Wh-whatever you want..." His heart clenched.

France brushed England's hair away. "Comme des fous..." He laughed and kissed England's nose.

England opened his eyes sadly, though his eyebrows were drawn together.

France kissed him quickly, softly. "Well?"

England shook his head. "I'll just… do whatever... You think I should do.." He looked away, holding back tears again. "I-I can't decide…" He mumbled grimly.

France nodded slightly. "Go home, you'll forget everything soon enough…"

England nodded, locking his jaw as a tear streamed down his face, sighing.

"Let's clean you up..." France led Arthur away into an annex of the house. He urged England to enter a small room, with a bed and Celt clothing laying on it.

England followed him numbly, not really aware of the tears that were still falling.

France sat England down, handing him the green cloak-like dress, with a brown belt and long sleeves.

England took the cloth, looking up at Francis sadly, knowing what he should be doing now, but not making a move.

"Please put it on," France ordered, keeping his voice gently, and looking through a box.

England stayed there for a moment, before standing up with a shaky breath and began to put it on quietly.

France turned and helped with England's hair and tears started to fill his own eyes. "I'm so sorry..."

Once his clothes were put on, England turned around and latched his arms around France's waist, letting his sobs shake his frame now. "I-I love you, Fr-Francis..."

"I love you too," France whispered back, holding England tightly.

England stayed there for a while, shaking with tears still, and he eventually pulled himself together a little bit, his shaking stopping, and the tears stopped falling, though he moved jerkily to look up at Francis and kiss him gently with bleary, red eyes.

France kissed him quickly, wiping at England's cheeks. "You'll be fine. Trust me.. We'll be together again soon." He smiled and kissed England's hand gently before taking it tightly in his own.

England swallowed softly and nodded, still not wanting to leave, even with that information. "A-alright.."

France nodded and handed England a sack. He led him to the forest that was behind his house; from there he came upon a ring of trees. "England, wait here until she comes," he paused with a fierce hug and kiss, before bidding him farewell and turning without a glance back. When Francis's figure was no longer visible, England cried again, though only a few tears though this time. He pulled himself together and opened the sack, looking inside at its contents, his chest still feeling tight from the tears. The sack was rather empty, save for some small weapons, a bottle of red liquid, and a few foreign looking coins. He briefly wondered why he had these, especially the weapons, as he rubbed at his eyes and looked around, moving to sit next to a tree. There was a fit of giggling and a young child ran up to Arthur, smiling in awe. He had blonde hair and a face that resembled Arthur's, eyebrows and all.

Arthur looked at her confusedly, thinking that this must be who he had meant. "Wh-who are you...?" He asked, his voice cracking.

He giggled and ran away. He stared after the boy curiously. After a few seconds loud foot steps indicated someone else. A tall woman, with the same facial features and blonde hair, but with pigtails, caught up with the boy. She turned to England. "Oi, who're you?"

England looked at the small boy who ran back to the woman and gripped one of her legs, and stood up when the older woman came by. "Well, who are you?" He stuttered, not knowing exactly what to tell her.

"Alice," she held out the hand that wasn't holding the boy to her side; Arthur carefully took her hand. "What are you doin' here? What's your name? When did you come here?" she asked quickly.

He bit his lip softly. "A-Arthur... I'm not sure what I'm doing here... And not too long ago, I believe..." He frowned.

She pulled the boy up and looked at his face. "Arthur Kirkland?"

He nodded softly, cautious as he dropped her hand, but he flinched a little when she grinned and hugged him swiftly. "Brother!"

"A-ah..." He stiffened slightly and patted her back awkwardly. "...Yeah..."

"Don't tell me you forgot about me!" She laughed and patted his shoulder, shifting the boy in her arms.

"N-no, of course not.. I just... I blanked." He frowned, though he tried to chuckle softly.

"Sure thing," Alice laughed, it was a nice sound, triggering nice memories for England-of which he couldn't quite grasp. "Come on," she urged him to follow her. He nodded softly, biting his lip as he followed her quietly, glancing back the way he'd come, missing France so much already.

"Don't miss him, he'll come over very soon," she smiled, holding his hand tightly.

"Wh-what?" He asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

She looked back with a sigh and touched his eyebrows. "Quit doing that, you'll have wrinkles..". England sighed back, but didn't stop. She frowned and set the boy down "go on, Sweety," the boy then nodded and scampered off. Alice turned to Arthur, looking angry. "Arthur, do you miss being a nation or something?"

England's eyebrows pushed together in confusion. "Hn...? No." He shook his head, though he wondered what happened..

"You have to wait a few years... So you can catch up with yourself,"

"Wh-what do you mean?" He asked softly, biting his lip softly.

She sighed and looked away, rolling her eyes. "Are ya hungry?"

He shrugged softly, not exactly knowing. She took that as a yes and led him to a campsite, it was lined with large purple tents and many people walked around. She finally led him into a wooden building, smelling of food. Arthur looked around curiously, biting his lip and wondering where exactly he was, though it was actually kind of obvious.

"Welcome home!" A gruff male voice said, with a hardy pat to England's back

Arthur flinched slightly at the pat and looked up at the source of the voice. "A-ah, thanks..."

Behind him was a tall, red haired boy with a slight stuble. "ARTY! Pal, nice to see ye!" He gave England a crushing hug. "Brother, thought I'd never see ya again!"

Arthur hugged him back awkwardly, trying to breathe properly. "I- er, I missed you too.." He sighed softly, wondering why Allister was being so nice..

He dropped England back to the floor, "Aren't you glad to see big brother Allister?" He laughed and poked England's arm. "Ah, you seem to have lost all yer muscles!"

"O-of course I am.." He tried softly, giving him a smile, shrugging slightly.

Allister sighed and patted England's back "Arthur..."

"Yeah..?" He asked quietly, wondering.

Allister smiled. "You'll get used to it."

Arthur nodded softly, but wondered how everyone seemed to know what he was thinking.

Allister sighed and handed England a plate of potatoes and meat from a counter behind him. "Don't worry, we can't read your thoughts. Everyone who comes here thinks pretty much the same thing.. We're just good with emotion,"

England looked down at his plate of food. "O-oh.. thank you..."

"You're welcome," Allister smiled.

"So... We sit down...?"

"Sure, whatever floats your boat."

He nodded softly, hesitant as he picked somewhere to sit, glancing up at the other two as if asking if it was okay to sit there.

They smiled at him and urged him on and Arthur picked his spot then and say down quietly, looking at his food.

The other two sat next to him, and the boy who seemed so close to Alice, who he'd realized to be named Peter, came to join them.

* * *

A few days had passed, and Arthur had headed back to Francis' house, to sneak a note for Francis inside his house. He knew exactly the way he'd come from the house to their little camp ground, but when he came to the little ring of trees, he paused. When he and Francis had gotten here, he had looked behind him the way they'd come.. And he was sure he could see Francis' house through the trees. But not a speck of the white mansion that Francis lived in was visible. Arthur bit his lip and walked forward to the location of the house.. He walked for a few minutes when he reached the clearing of the trees and his mouth dropped open a little.

The house was gone. There was no trace of the house ever being there.

Arthur continued to walk forward a little, to the very center of the clearing where the living room should have been. He walked right through each of the rooms, checking, to see if it was just an illusion.. And it wasn't.

He looked around, he saw the rocks that led to a paved, lit driveway where Francis would have parked his car, which wasn't there either. He followed the clearing that would have led to the main street in town. The street wasn't there either.

All that was there, where there should have been a house, a driveway and a crooked street was healthy, thick grass. Grass that would have taken a few months to grow.

Arthur swallowed and went back to where the white mansion would have been and sat down in the middle of the clearing, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The Englishman sat there for hours, not even noticing as he bagan to feel numb, a dream-like and fuzzy feeling taking over his senses as he sat there, unaware that the moon had risen and darkness had taken over until a chilly breeze blew through the forest. The gust of air, which seemed to glow a blueish colour, hit him right in the face, and Arthur yelped softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

There was only one gust of wind, and Arthur sat there for a moment, his eyes still closed, waiting for another. When none came, he opened his eyes, and right in front of him, the grass was glowing a florescent green in colour. He turned around, biting his lip, only to find a little shimmer of faeries fluttering before him with their petite little wings. One had flown up closer to Arthur and sat on his shoulder.

"..T-Tink...?" Arthur turned his head to look at the faerie on his shoulder, and the girl smiled and hugged his neck, because of her height.

"Hello..!" She chimed, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder and her right wing.

"Why.. Why are you here..?" He asked quietly, looking down at her little troop of faeries.

"I knew you're confused.. And I was worried about you." She frowned, playing with the cloak that rested on Arthur's shoulders.

"Then..." Arthur sighed softly and paused. "Why.. Where's the house...? Where's France..?" He asked quietly, refering to the country they were in rather than Francis.

Tink didn't say anything for a moment. "Arthur.. Do you feel like... Like this isn't real?" She asked quickly, looking up at him and combing her petite fingers through his long red hair.

"Yes.. That's exactly how it feels.." He mumbled after a moment and looked at her with one thick eyebrow cocked.

Tink sighed softly, and the sound was like a small breeze. "Well... You're not real, anymore... Not this you.. The other you exists now." She frowned and hopped off his shoulder, fluttering in midair in front of him.

"So... What do I do...?"

She shrugged. "Wait. You'll fade... And the other you will be with France, living your happily ever after." She smiled slightly. "They're probably tongueing eachother right now.."

Arthur nodded and sighed, standing numbly. That explained the dreamy feeling, he guessed, and waved his shimmer of faeries a goodbye before heading back to camp.

He didn't notice, but Tink watched him walk away, seeing his figure blur before it faded and disappeared into mist.

* * *

**Okay, guise. I am finally wrapping this up. This chapter took forever to write, and I apologize for that. ;-; I actually started to have more ideas for this last night at the Blacklight Dance at my school- it was more like a rave- with my boyfriend, but, you know how it goes. I had such a good idea to finish this story and I can't remember what, though, so I was depressed. Haha. Welp, also, Allister is Scotland; I know he's too cheery, but I didn't really want Wales or Ireland some reason, though I adore Wales to death. And I apologize if Tink's name is really Tinkerbell, I wasnt sure and wrote this on my phone, so I didn't have many ways to check.  
**

**Well. Aaaanyways. Review and MAYBE I'll post one last chapter. Thank you all for your glorious reviews!**


	7. Depression

Arthur felt everything go completely numb and he had blacked out.

He didn't know why, how, when, or where, but everything went black on his journey back to his Celtic family in the woods. He wasn't even really aware of what happened until he opened his eyes, the emerald orbs trying to adjust to the artificial light that he had grown unaccustomed during his time outside.

He glanced down at himself, finding that the green cloak he had been wearing for the past few days was gone and he was in one of his favourite green sweater vests and white button down shirt and khakis and he was lying on his side on his own beige couch at his home in London.

He sat up looked all around him– he was right at home, alone. Everything was just as it had been before he went to Francis' home. There was papers about England's economy and neutrality status scattered all over the shiny black table next to the couch he was on, and his slippers he wore in the morning were at the foot of the couch. His one cat, Fred, was sleeping soundly, tucked underneath a couch cushion in the corner of the matching chair opposite the couch. The fireplace still had embers from when he last burned a fire there and the pictures on the mantle of his family and colonies, as well as ex-colonies, all of them having fun, great times, very few with himself in them. The one in the center was facing downward, the one with France hugging England from behind when he didn't expect it; Kiku had taken the photo on France's command, and Arthur had secretly gotten the photo off of Facebook and printed it out. There was not a single picture with France in it anywhere else in his home. The telly was off but the recording button on the DVR was on; _Sherlock_ must be taping right now. The clock told him that it was 11:16, probably at night. A glance at the curtains told him that he was right. There was no light seeping from between the curtains whatsoever.

His hand made its way to his head with a sigh, and he drug his fingers through his hair to find his hair short and ruffled again. His lips twitched up in a small smile and he swung his legs over the side of the couch, kicking off his black dress shoes to slip into his slippers, and he stood, looking all around one more time before venturing off into the house to find the restroom, and, once there, he giggled softly when he leaned closer to the mirror to find the freckles really were gone, and his hair really and truly his short, dusty blonde again. His giggle had startled him a little, and laughed a little more, rolling his eyes at himself, until his eyes caught on something that was out of place in the mirror.

Standing there, visible just over England's shoulder, were two cerulean eyes staring right at him through the mirror behind a mop of bright blonde tresses, his stubbled chin shadowed by his hair.

The man in the mirror was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, it sounded like velvet. "_Je suppose que vous êtes la vraie Angleterre, compte tenu de la façon don't te te comportes.. Arthur_…" He didn't smile.

"Are you... Alright... Francis..?" He mumbled quietly, biting his lip.

"Fine." He mumbled, seeming curt about it.

Arthur frowned and looked down with a sigh before he turned around slowly.

"That shade of red was adorable on your hair.." Francis sighed back quietly, not moving. "Its a shame it's gone."

There was something different, Arthur couldn't name it, but something was wrong with the smile he shot at the Brit.

"I like my hair like this." Arthur looked at him innocently, moving to step forward, to get closer to him.

Francis shrugged and beckoned Arthur closer, opening his arms a little for him. Arthur smiled a little, coming forward with a little more confidence, and Francis wrapped his arms around the smaller man when he was close enough, pulling him tight against him and bruying his face into his hair. "It's still cute this way, too.."

Arthur smiled a little and pulled away just enough to look up at him, meeting Francis' frighteningly cold azure eyes. "...A-are you okay, Francis..?" He asked tentatively.

"Perfectly fine, cher."

* * *

Five months.

It was Five months when England returned to his time.. Five months.

France wasn't exactly acting like he was before. He was kind of giving England a cold shoulder when England tried to talk to him. He'd give England short, yes or know answers, and didn't look at England how he used to. He didn't even call England names, the good ones _or_ the bad ones. He wouldn't even talk to anyone much at all anymore... Except that one ex-colony of his.. Er... Oh yeah, Canada. England saw him talking to Canada earlier, though he mistook Canada as America.. When he was talking to France, though... France had the worst look in his eyes; a look that could tell you every sorrowful thing that has ever happened to anyone... a look that could tell you the wise stories of old men...the look that showed the weariness of old men too..

His eyes had looked older as well.. Like his eyes had aged but the rest of him hadn't.. Or maybe he was just tired. England chose that idea. He didn't want to see, even in his mind's eye, anything that looked like Francis when he was aging ever again... It broke his heart.

France still sat near England during the few meetings that they've had.. France still held England's hand and kissed him.. But they've done nothing more than that, much to England's dismay.

England did get horny, too.

When he wanted something, he tried to be sexy, wrapping his arms around France's neck and biting his lip, which he knew France hated,pushing himself close to the Frenchman, and occasionally, his erection, too, moving a hand to tug at his hair gently or play with the stubble on his chin... But nothing worked. France had some excuse and pushed him away in a polite manner.

_When the bloody hell does France_ _ever refuse sex?_

Something was definitely wrong..

But, even if France wasn't talking much, and something was clearly wrong, he didn't say anything about it. Was there some sort of secret, planned attack coming from his capitol? Was there just things happening that he couldn't control within his country?

...Or was it Francis' problem?

Not France's?

* * *

England was horny. Again.

He had snuck out of the room the World Meetings had provided for them in a fancy hotel in America to find the Frenchman's room. Once he had located it by the smell of roses and wine, he knocked on the door, biting his lip. He waited for France to open the door eagerly, and smiled when he did, the older inviting England in. England smiled widely and stepped inside, not bothering with looking at the room when he turned and stepped closer to France as he was shutting and locking the door back up.

France turned and jumped slightly when he found England wrapping his arms around his neck already, fingers combing through the soft, blonde tresses. France automatically, and almost mechanically, set his hands on England's waist.

"Hey, France.." He smiled, his green eyes quite hazy before they closed and gave the Frenchman a little peck on the lips. England's face was flushed, knowing he already was getting a boner.

France sighed softly, smiling slightly, though it didn't reach his dull azure eyes. "Hello.."

The Brit looked up at him with wide, green eyes, as if pouting. "What have you been doing cooped up in here all night, love?" He questioned coyly, pushing himself closer.

"Nothing.." He mumbled, and glanced away. "Reading." He paused a moment. "What have I the pleasure of having you here?"

England smirked and moved his head to Francis' ear, whispering to him, in such a way that turned him on like mad.. Anything with his hair and ears usually made him hot and hazy-eyed. "There could be much more pleasure if this fabric wasn't here," he smiled and purposely blew into his ear gently.

France shivered. A reaction. That was great.

Until France pushed him away. "Non."

England looked up at him, surprised, rejected. "What's wrong..?" He asked quietly, thick brows knitted together.

France glanced away and sighed heavily. "I-I don't know," he uttered, walking away from the door and around England to a chair in the corner that overlooked New York.

He sat for a moment, and stood, moving to another chair, burt not sitting down, turning, and looking at the Brit in the doorway, before moving to the bed and sitting. He ran a hand through his hair. "Nothing," he mumbled icily.

Arthur frowned and slowly moved over to him, standing in front of him. "France... Seriously, tell me... Francis.." He mumbled, trying to be soft and gently about it in his still-aroused, rejected state.

France said nothing, his head in his hands.

"Francis, please... I-" England tried again, but was cut off by a low, curt, French accent.

"That's it," were the two growled words that interrupted England.

England cocked a brow at the words, and France looked up.

"I _did_ promise I'd stay a country, for _you_," he explained, "but that didn't mean I'd enjoy it. England, I'm suffering. I hate this. I want to be Francis again. I can't stand it. It hurts me everywhere; it hurts my mind... My body aches from being used for so long but not wearing out once... My heart aches, the one thing I want that I don't already have I _can't _have. And if I can have it.. I'll hurt _you_, Arthur.. If I leave, retire for eternity, like I want to... You'll cry. You'll be angry. You'll be alone, and I won't be sorry for my choice and it'll hurt you even more and throw things out of whack in England..."

England stared, biting the inside of his lips as he watched France's now melancholy, shiny eyes look at him.

...The statement.. It was true.. But it broke England's heart.. Because it probably was true...

He remembered feeling like that last time.

"Francis.. I..." England mumbled after a moment, pausing and going to continue, but France cut him off, again.

"Non, Arthur.. I'm sorry, I am, for hurting you, but I can't do this anymore, I just can't. Matthieu agrees with me.. I should do this for me.. Just once.. It'll be the end, but, its worth it, if I can get the peace and rest I crave." France wiped at his eyes, seeing as the saltwater almost overflowed, his voice cracking. "Please, please.. Arthur, I don't want to be here any more.. It hurts to live with the weight of France on my shoulders.. With living for so long.. I just feel like there's a void in me.." France sniffed and got up, standing in front of England and taking his pale face in his hands. "I don't want to hurt you.. I never have, and it hurts to ask this of you now, because I _do_ love you.. _So much_, Arthur... Even if I haven't said so in months.. I do.. I'm sorry I haven't been able to do that for you.. Much less make love to you.. Or even smile regularly.." He sighed softly, looking away.

"Francis, I-"

He cut me off _again. _"No. Arthur. I need to ask you now, or I-I'll never get to it..." He sniffed and a tear leaked down his cheek. "Please.. I have to quit.. I have to.. What I'm asking is to not hurt yourself or stay with me and watch me wither away.. Again. Don't quit, either.. Please.. S'il vous plaît.." He mumbled, leaning forward and kissing England, who'd gotten tears in his eyes just watching France. England whimpered softly against the kiss, shaking a little when France pulled him closer and wrapped his arms tight around him like he used to. When England pulled away, though, France bit his lip gently.

"Quit... Francis.. As much as I'd hate it... I can see how much it's hurting you.." He muttered, looking away, as the tears blurred his vision slightly. "But I'm staying with you until the end.."

Francis' breathing hitched a little and more tears escaped his eyes, and he kissed England again, mumbling sweet, French things in between. "Merci, Angleterre, mon amour, je t'aime.."

* * *

**WOAH, guise. Okay. Final chapter. That took a lot outta me. Especially the beginning... That was a nightmare. Anyway, thank you, again, **_**so much**_** for all of your support in getting me through this one. Your support is what I crave most, and I thank you all so much for that (even though 12 followers on a six-chapter fic is really low). Love you guys, A LOT. :D**

**Translations:**

_**Je suppose que vous êtes la vraie Angleterre, compte tenu de la façon don't te te comportes.. –**_**I take it that you're the real England, considering how you're acting…**


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